The End of Days (in Hong Kong)

The last day. Considering how long it took me to get this uploaded, you would think it was the most epic day I had. But it really wasn't. It wasn't bad, though.

Side street. With some side people.

I had only one destination left that I wanted to catch before heading back to Houston on Sunday. Some of the most mesmerizing images from Hong Kong that I had seen before my trip were of the apartment buildings in Quarry Bay. And I had to see them.

Like most other days, this one began with a bit of research on getting around. Each day was different depending on how tired or sore I was, the distance I would need to travel, and the time of day. I figured that I hadn't given the bus system its fair shot, so that's how I decided to get around for the day. And that was a disaster.

At was at this moment, I knew I fucked up.

The blame for my dismay is hard to pin down. Google, the all-knowing and all-seeing overlord we have all come to depend on, had informed me to take bus A12. When A12 arrived, I got on. I sat and enjoyed the view, until I noticed that the view was changing from the harbor to the buildings of Mong Kok. I was not supposed to be anywhere near Mong Kok. As it turned out, this particular A12 I was riding was heading directly to the airport. It also happened to be the last run of the bus driver, so it would not be swinging back around to my original stop so I could catch the correct bus. Perfect!

Luckily for me, the bus driver spoke fluent Chinese. I mean, I am not really sure how that made me lucky. Why did I even say that? She spoke no English. Not even enough to ask where the bathroom was. I guess it wasn't important considering the bus had no bathrooms, which is not uncommon among Hong Kong buses I hear. But I digress. I tried to communicate that I was on the wrong bus, and wanted to know how to get on the right bus. The lucky part for me came in the form of a passenger who was kind enough to play the role of translator. The second lucky part was when the driver finished her shift, and pulled me along with her to another bus, where she spoke to that driver, told him where I was going, and got me a free ride to my destination. All of this was great news, because the ride there had cost me HK$40 and drained my transit card - a card that can only be filled in increments of $50, and I was there on my last day without any hope of making use of that much transportation. Summary: I got where I needed to go.

That window. No, that one.

I came to see a specific building, though I really could have gone to any in the area as they all had similarly intriguing construction. And it is in areas like these that you fully understand how such a small city could be so densely populated. Many apartment buildings appear to shoot from the ground like needles pointing to the sky. These sky straws filled with families equally filled me with concern that the first hard gust would come along and end the lives of enough people to actually impact the economy. But they never fell. And if they haven't by now, they likely never will.

As if there weren't enough stairs in this city.

But the thing that fascinates me is the sheer number of them. Coupled with their size, the quantity of these buildings helps as a visual aid to understanding how many people really live here. And by "here", I mean Hong Kong, but could just as easily mean this planet. It's humbling to know that in all of these outwardly identical housing units live individual people, living completely different lives. If they each wrote an autobiography, the only thing they would have in common would be that they all lived in Hong Kong at the same time. Am I reading too deep into this? Maybe you're not reading deep enough into it. Maybe you need to stay woke. I may or may not have made a reference to my or your woke status in a previous installment of this journey. And I can neither confirm nor deny that I don't care. The agent on the other side of my ear piece is now telling me to move on. I shall.

Every resident missed a perfect opportunity to photobomb.

After blowing my own mind through over thinking the mundane, I caught a cab back to Central to try and catch a bite to eat. What I wanted to do was eat at Noodle & Dog. As I am sure you are unable to ascertain from their name, they combine hot dogs and noodles. Not like those pictures of the diced up hot dogs skewered by spaghetti floating around the internet. I'd love to include a photo for reference, but that's where the word "wanted" used a few sentences ago becomes very important. They were closed. So I went to Okra instead.

Okra is a Japanese izakaya, or gastropub, or basically a diner with nicer food that serves alcohol. I'm not a food blogger. What do you expect from me? It was across the street from my apartment and I was hungry. And I made the right choice. The place was great.

The owner, I was told by one of the chefs. was a New Orleans local. And that chef who told me was from Lafayette. I should have known they were from Louisiana with a name like Okra, instead of just blaming in on more of that small world nonsense.

Don't tell anyone I took this photo with my phone.

I didn't order the okra, partly because I don't like okra, but mostly because they don't serve it. What I did order can easily be described as "roast beef" and "sake", though the descriptions on their menu would do much more justice to what they actually were. The roast beef was black Angus prime chuck tail flap and the sake was Kaze No Mori Kinuhikari followed by five Japanese descriptive words denoting the ways in which it was made. My mouth translated all of that as simply delicious. As with most restaurants where I don't entirely understand the menu, it was my most expensive meal relative to everything else I had eaten that week. But it was worth it.

That seemed like a perfect note to end that trip on. The first half of my stay was very hectic and left me overwhelmed by my own expectations. But the last two days gave me more perspective on my purpose there. Seeing the temples and taking in the quieter parts of the city gave me time to reflect on more than just what I was going to do in the next hour. The hours of time spent riding the bus in the wrong direction and back presented me with the opportunity to relax while seeing much more of the city than I would have seen otherwise. The apartments of Quarry Bay reminded me that there are so many people in this world, with so many of their own problems, along with so many of their own personal blessings. I don't know if I will ever go back to Hong Kong, but I don't regret going there.

This is a composite. It's not real. But what is? I'm not. What?

Maybe I'll go to the moon next.

10,000 Positive Vibes

I'll give you a little piece of insight into the previous few days leading up to my sixth day in Hong Kong. You may notice that I didn't write anything about Day 5, and that's because I did basically nothing. I spent the day in the apartment for a combination of reasons: fatigue from all of the moving around and day after day of climbing five floors to my room, a chance to edit photos and catch up on writing, and a sneaky bout of depression. In regard to that last one, it was a nice twist that my sixth day turned out to be the polar opposite.

I was getting burned out of the constant hustle and bustle of the big city. Though the Chi Lin Nunnery from yesterday was relatively quiet, it was still sandwiched between major roads and part of it even slipped under a bridge. A part of the above-mentioned depression can be attributed to the thought that I wasn't exactly seeing what I wanted to see out of this trip on a more existential level. It wasn't boring or uninteresting, but it was busy. And that was something I wanted to get away from. So I traveled to Man Fat Sze, more widely known as the Ten Thousand Buddha Monastery.

Track city, bitch.

The name is a bit misleading. There are not exactly 10,000 Buddhas. Spread across the land that the monastery occupies are closer to 13,000 statues of Buddha in various shapes, sizes, poses, etc. But they all have two things in common: they're all gold, and they're all amazing.

Going down is so much easier than going up.

This particular monastery is also known for being slightly out of the way and challenging to reach. The grounds are build on the side of a hill, and the only way to access them are the steep, winding stairs lined with large, golden statues with different faces and expressions. At the first landing is a large hall which is filled wall to wall with smaller, individually labeled Buddha statues. This platform also has a couple smaller halls, a pagoda, a small vegetarian restaurant, and some larger statues. Climbing up a little further to the top, there are many more statues, two more halls, and a strangely abandoned white house.

The whole place was like nothing I had ever seen before. It renewed that feeling of excitement of seeing something new. Not only were the statues themselves a sight to be seen, but their history is interesting in itself. I won't go into extreme detail, but the basics are that a Buddhist layman inherited the land from a monk in the 1940s. Over the course of nearly 20 years, he and his followers brought the materials up the hill to construct the monastery and the thousands of statues around it. And I can't even be bothered to enroll in a single class at LSC.

Literally thousands of these.

At this point, the me from Day 4 would have said "Okay that's enough for today. Let's go home." Despite having just climbed roughly 400 steps and being the tub of lard that I am, the experience had inspired me to do more. So, without planning ahead, I decided to journey to the Po Lin Monastery on Lantau Island to see the Tian Tan Buddha. Colloquially known as "The Big Buddha" for soon-to-be-made-clear reasons.

The journey there started will getting from Man Fat Sze to the ferry terminal on Victoria Harbor. To get there, I grabbed a taxi. Lucky for me, my driver this time around was both fluent in English and very talkative. We had some chats about the weather, the changing political climate in both the US and Hong Kong, as well as why I should have written down the information of that cab driver from Victoria Peak the other day. As my new friend informed me, there are no flat rates for fares, nor are there adjusted rates for the time of day. He said that the fare is based entirely on the distance traveled and time spent traveling. So, even though a particular stretch of road will always be 4.5 km, the traffic will not always be the same, and thus the fare will not always be the same. And that charging me a flat rate without using the meter is illegal, not to mention how illegal it was to charge me an inflated rate for night time. Now, this may be no news to someone who lives in an area where taxi usage is a common occurrence, but I rarely ever use them. So this was new information to me. Live and learn.

Moving on, I got to the terminal, where I took the ferry to the other side of the harbor to catch the ferry from Central to Lantau Island. Once I got to the island, I needed to catch another taxi to take me to the monastery up in the mountains. Another stroke of luck hit me when I met with an expat waiting at the taxi stand. He offered to share a taxi with me since he lived half way up there, and I'd only end up having the pay for the second half of the trip. Score? Score.

The terminal at Mui Wo

As the taxi drove us up the winding roads and through small beachfront villages, the expat and I talked about the island and the general area. All of this while the sun was setting. It was an unbelievable moment where things all just fell into place. I had that "I could live here" moment, disregarding any of the barriers like language, finances, skill sets, etc. I just wanted to stay on that island and never leave. And that feeling didn't diminish at all once I reached my destination.

Roughly translates to: "Yeah it's big."

One thing I was told during the ride there was that the monastery and surrounding area was very commercialized. As the big Buddha is such an attraction, it isn't hard to imagine why that might be. But retails stores and cheap souvenir shops aside, there is still an authenticity to the place. Nothing speaks quite to that like having to be dropped off half way through the parking lot because the taxi couldn't get past a cow in the road. I walked by that cow, the crowds of people, the shops selling all sorts of things, more cows, their piles of shit, and more crowds to see what I came to see.

The face of peace.

It did not disappoint.

The blurry thing in the distance of peace.

I stayed there for a short while to reflect on things like life and the meaning of it, and totally not as an excuse to catch my breath after climbing the ridiculous amount of stairs to get to the top. But once I had collected myself and my guts, I figured enough was enough for the day. So I packed up and dipped out.

They should install a slide to get down.

Back on the main island, I thought of hitting up one of the food spots I had on my list. That didn't pan out, as was the recurring theme of the trip when it came to food. So I just walked around until I found something that peaked my interested. My interest was peaked by The Parish in SoHo. What I've heard from employees and chats with other people in the area is that The Parish is a cajun restaurant established by a native New Orleanian and employing European cooks and staff. I ordered the jambalaya and a bottle of hard cider. This may be a bold statement, but aside from the jambalaya made by myself and my family, this was the best I've had. And that includes the jambalaya made by my chef friend Rigo. Sorry, Rigo. Those Europeans in China sure know how to cook up some good ass cajun food.

My mind sufficiently blown for the day, I went back to the apartment and passed the hell out.

Chi Lin Nunnery

For this. I thought I would take a short trip up north in Kowloon to see the Chi Lin Nunnery. It was a bit of a trek, being the farthest distance I had traveled within Hong Kong to that point.

I caught a bus here, a train there, missed a stop over yonder, and finally got off at Diamond Hill. Here's where I made another observation about this small part of the world. There are so many malls. Perhaps I am using "mall" incorrectly here, or maybe I just happen to be traveling to all of the most popular places in the city, but at every turn there seems to be a sprawling shopping complex just waiting to drain the credit cards of unsuspecting passersby. After being bombarded by storefront after storefront of consumer goods trying to find food, succeeding, and leaving the premises, I located Chi Lin Nunnery and Nan Lian Garden.

We've lost the war on terracotta.

According to the very minimal research I did before arriving at Chi Lin, it's a Buddhist temple opened in the 1930s and renovated in the 1990s. Either because of those renovations, very thorough maintenance, or a combination of the two that the complex looks almost brand new.

Learn to see the forest for the tr... Wait what?

At first, I was a bit disappointed as it seemed on the outside that it was constructed with the purpose of capitalizing on the tourism generated by temples in Asian countries. But the more I looked around, my mind changed. I was basing my enjoyment on the expectations that structures like these needed to be old and weathered. But, at some point in time, they were new. I was given an opportunity to see what a temple like this looks like without being touched by deterioration. And with that thought, the bright paint became more beautiful.

I can't tell you how many birds have photobombed my shots.

Speaking of rethinking my previous approaches, after my visit to Sky100 yesterday, I wanted a chance to get a good view of the Hong Kong skyline at night from Victoria Peak. So I grabbed another thousand different modes of transportation and eventually made my way back to the mountain on the main island.

I don't remember what city this is.

I also sat around a bit just to people watch.

Try not to look creepy when you do that.

From the peak, I tried to catch a taxi sitting nearby to get me back to the bottom of the mountain. The driver told me that, because it was after dark, the cost would be HK$400. I said screw that and went to wait in a long line to catch a bus. I didn't learn until a couple days later why I should have done more with that situation.

Waiting in line, a couple came to me asking about the cost of the fare for the bus. I answered their questions to the best of my ability given my far-from-extensive knowledge of the HK bus service. We talked more and eventually found that we were both from Houston. The more we talked, it came to light that for a good period of time, we lived within a mile of each other. Small world, right?

I ended the night by being a lazy American and ordering food at McDonald's to take back to my room and enjoy while watching Game Grumps. I learned that the McNuggets in this part of the world are still, in part or in whole, using dark meat. A pleasant surprise to me. White meat might be better for you, but I don't eat nuggets for my health.

And I certainly don't travel the world for my health.

The 100th Floor

And then I was like... Oh yeah, hi. Day three, right? Right. It got off to a rocky start considering that, on top of my feet being sore from yesterday, I managed to injure my toe in the tiny shower/toilet cubicle. The entirety of the apartment I am occupying for the week is roughly the size of my bedroom at home. But I am not complaining. I understand that space is a premium in a city that has an area about two thirds that of Houston while maintaining more than three times the population. But ow.

As for the goings on of the day, just like my life, I had no real plans. I was just going to wing it. And wing it I did. With mixed results.

No idea where I am going

I had read about a small restaurant that had opened recently down the road from the apartment and decided to check it out. Unfortunately, for the second time, this place was not open. Unlike yesterday, however, someone was there to inform me that they would be open for business tomorrow. Pencil that one in on my imaginary calendar.

I walked around aimlessly through the streets trying to find a restaurant to have a bite, but they all seemed to be filled to the brim like dishes I throw in the sink and fill with water to fool myself into thinking I'm just letting them soak until I get a chance to clean them. This is where that space as a premium comes in again. There is by no means a shortage of food options in Hong Kong, but many of them are small shops with a kitchen the size of one in your apartment and a dining area the size of a large parking space.

I did find a place, though. A Japanese restaurant on Hillier called Hakodate. Its wait staff was very nice and helpful, despite my shortcomings in Chinese and theirs in English. I ordered some ramen with cuts of pork and enjoyed my second meal in three days. I was busy.

From there, I continued on my aimless journey to discover whatever there was to discover. Like a pioneer exploring the unknown even though it was clearly already very well known by many other people. You know, like an American.

More taxis than you can shake a stick at before being hit

I eventually found myself by the piers where an armada of ferries could take any person any place they could dream of. As long as their dreams were limited to the numerous islands of Hong Kong and Macau. My dreams were well within that epic scope, and I hopped a ride to Tsim Sha Tsui on the opposite side of the harbor. I'm sorry. Harbour. Because Britain.

Once I got to the other side, the only natural thing I could think to do was look back to where I came from.

toot toot

From where I stood on the pier, I could see more closely a looming pillar that was hard to miss even from the top of Victoria Peak. It was the International Commerce Centre and location of my next destination, Sky100. On the 100th floor of the building is an observation deck with a 360 degree view of the city. Not unlike Tokyo SkyTree in... I forget... Toronto? Something like that. One thing that cannot be mistaken is the amazing view.

The view was so nice that it made me completely forget about the taxi driver who brought me there. On top of driving like he and his Toyota Crown were in the filming of a Cantonese rip off of Fast and Furious, he was not at all happy that I didn't speak Chinese. I was able to inform him of where I needed to go, and though I can't carry a conversation in Chinese, I know when someone is talking shit. I bring it up because of the polar opposite experience of the taxi back to the pier. An old man, born at the very least before the end of the last dynasty, also speaking no English, kindly looked at my phone with a magnifying glass and began his smooth and calm drive to the docks so I could catch the ferry.

The remainder of the evening had me running to a market to get some things to eat at the apartment instead of struggling to find food every day. Of course, what I did not realize until I got back was that there were no utensils in the apartment. Third meal: scheduled for tomorrow.